Blood Trade: A Jane Yellowrock Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Jameson?” she called. “We have guests.”
    The nearly unflappable man appeared in the doorway, a white apron over his khakis and button-down white shirt, a white linen towel over one arm. In the other was a teapot, the spout steaming. He didn’t look quite as happy as Esmee did to see me, which was not a surprise—the last time I was here he’d ended up under a table during the gun battle—but he didn’t try to scald me with the tea or stab me with the knife beside the piglet, so I was okay with that.
    “Good day to you, Miss Yellowrock.” Turning to the side, he said, “And to you, Masters Younger. We have water for the elder Younger and cola for the younger Younger.” Which made me grin, but the brothers had obviously heard it before, because they ignored it.
    Esmee pointed to seats and took the one that Jameson pulled out for her. The brothers sat as Jameson poured tea and brought drinks and passed out plates before taking a big, two-pronged sterling silver fork to the piglet and pulling meat off the bones. The smell was heavenly, divine, fabulous—all the words that meant “good.” Beast watched the fork pull on the succulent flesh and thought about catching a wild piglet in the forest.
    Esmee said, “So, my dears. Who do we need to kill this time?”
    My appetite went into hiatus.
    Esmee clasped her hands before her like a little girl waiting on Santa. Jameson’s brows rose so far that they nearly sandwiched into his hairline. The Kid snickered. Eli’s lips twitched and he leaned back in his chair as if watching a show. I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again, and realized I had no idea what to answer.
    Eli snorted softly and said, “Miz Esmee, we’re just here to reconnoiter and for Jane to do an interview. The press, you know.”
    Jameson gave a small nod of approval, but Esmee’s face fell. “But . . .” She looked woebegone, as if we’d stolen her favorite doll and cut off its head, but then she smiled, showing off dazzling new white teeth. “Once you reconnoiter, then you might have to kill the vampires taking our people. Yes? And I get to help.”
    Carefully, Eli said, “If we find something to kill and have time to come get you, we will.”
    “What fun!” She clapped her hands, and Jameson looked at her fondly, as if she were a dotty favorite aunt. “But the press was awful to the Reagans when they were here. The media is not allowed on the property. I hope you don’t mind, dear,” she said to me, “but you will simply have to meet with them elsewhere.”
    “I don’t mind at all, Miss Esmee. That privacy—and your ability with firearms,” I added quickly, “are the very reasons we wanted to stay here with you.”
    “Aren’t you sweet?” She patted my hand and said, “Serve these charming young people, Jameson. They have reconnoitering to do.”
    To Eli I mouthed a silent thank-you. His lips quirked up on one side and he gave his attention to a piglet sandwich, heavy on the pork, light on the bread, with a plateful of fruit to the side that might have satisfied a troop of monkeys. Eli ate healthy, while his brother’s sandwich was heavy on the sauce and bread, with an apple slice and three grapes to the side. Mine was more like a plateful of pork with no bread and no fruit at all. I groaned with delight at the burst of roast piglet flavor and said, “I may have to marry you, Jammie.”
    “I’d rather be married to a cobra, Miss Jane,” he said gently in what might have been a Boston accent. “No offense.”
    Miss Esmee gasped and Eli chuckled. I sipped my tea to hide my smile and said, “No offense at all, Jammie.” I pointed with my fork. “Good pig.”
    “Thank you, Miss Jane,” he said, sounding serene.
    After a meal fit for a carnivorous king, I took my personal gear upstairs and picked the tiny bedroom I’d napped in the last time I was here. The mattress was that memory-foam stuff and no way was I giving that up to one of the guys. The upstairs